


The Deal

by jamiemackenziefraser



Series: The Set Up [2]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: College AU, F/M, Family Conflict, Happy Ending, Jealousy, Modern Day, kinda romcom, no actual weddings were harmed in the making of this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29415441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamiemackenziefraser/pseuds/jamiemackenziefraser
Summary: Jamie’s parents don’t approve of his relationship with Claire, so they make him a deal: one date with Laoghaire to make sure she isn’t better suited, and if it doesn’t go well, they’ll give their blessing to him and Claire. With the tables turned, this time it’s Claire who has to endure watching Jamie with another woman. They tell themselves they can make it through one short night... only things can never be so simple.Sequel to “The Set Up” but can certainly be read as a stand-alone!
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Series: The Set Up [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2160849
Comments: 34
Kudos: 136





	The Deal

**Author's Note:**

> I was thiiiiis close to letting this sit in my drafts for forever because I wasn’t super happy with it when I wrote it shortly after "The Set Up", but then I gave it a reread and actually kinda enjoyed, so I decided I might as well share it after all. So for everyone who asked for a continuation after “The Set Up”, this is for you lovely people, I hope you enjoy <3
> 
> If you haven’t read “The Set Up” or want a refresher, here’s the gist: Jamie and Claire are college students back home for the holidays. They’re keeping their relationship a secret because Jamie’s parents and Claire’s Uncle would never approve. While on a trip with their friends, Geillis tries to set Claire up with Frank. There’s a whole weekend of jealousy before things finally come to a head and Jamie admits the truth in front of their friends. Finally, Claire and Jamie decide it’s time for no more secrets— they’re going to tell the parents. 
> 
> (Also I’m changing Laoghaire’s last name to MacKimmie to match 21st century standards since Jamie’s mom is a MacKenzie. So no, they aren’t related, and no she isn’t married.)

“Is everyone in this damn world tryin’ tae fix us up with someone other than each other?” Jamie exclaimed in a voice laced with equal parts exasperation and indignation. As he spoke, he clutched Claire tighter to himself, as if someone was trying to physically rip her from him at that very moment. 

He was lying with Claire nestled in the crook of his body, but despite their cozy position, he couldn’t seem to get himself to untense. His muscles were coiled in frustration at the world regardless of his girlfriend’s reassuring softness. She fit against him perfectly, as if her body had been formed with the intention of completing Jamie’s. And he tended to believe that very thing; Claire made him whole in a way that no one else ever had. When he was with her, he was home. 

But it seemed no one else in the bloody world was inclined to agree. 

Claire shifted herself so her back was pressed impossibly closer to his front. She wriggled a bit, teasing, and then turned over to face him. He dipped his head slightly so their faces were only inches apart and their breath mingled with every exhale. He longed to keep this closeness forever. 

One of her hands wandered up to Jamie’s cheek where she caressed the line of his jaw in smooth, reassuring strokes.

“It’ll be fine, Jamie. We’ll just get this over with, and then everyone will finally leave us be.” 

Her voice was soft, melodic. He had no idea how her words always had that magical ability to reach inside his chest and grasp his heart. Or maybe it was the way she was looking at him with those soft, sympathetic eyes that made his insides turn to mush. 

“I hope so. Because if one more person tries tae tell me that yer no’ mine and I’m no’ yers, I’ll lose control altogether.” 

Claire simply nodded in agreement, and then her hand wandered up to stroke his hair. Her wee fingers tangled in his curls and pressed against his scalp in a way that seemed to draw the agitation right out of him. 

He closed his eyes and sighed as she continued her ministrations. 

Under the cover of his dark eyelids, his mind traveled unbidden back to the events of the morning that had left him so riled. 

_ His mother— sitting on the couch with her back ramrod straight, hands clasped in her lap and mouth pressed tightly into a thin line of disapproval. His father— pacing back and forth while occasionally stopping to appraise him and Claire with a gimlet eye.  _

_ Jamie had sat with Claire pressed closely against him, as if her nearness would give him strength to get everything over with. He’d known going in that his parents would never approve of him dating her— half because she was a Sassenach and half because of their hatred for her Uncle Lamb— but he also knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Claire was the one he was going to spend the rest of his life with, so it had been time to tell his parents.  _

_ The declaration had hung in the air for a long moment after he’d announced— very matter-of-factly— that Claire was his girlfriend and he was in love with her.  _

_ His parents had gone stern and silent, the room stiflingly motionless save for his father’s pacing.  _

_ Claire had squeezed his hand in reassurance, but they’d both stayed completely quiet, simply waiting for his parents to say something.  _

_ Finally, his father had burst out, “ye ken this is a mistake, James.”  _

_ What followed was a yelling match that rivaled that of any reality television show. Jamie had been so enraged by his father’s comments— Brian had hurled disparaging words about Claire at Jamie as if his girlfriend hadn’t been sitting just there on the couch— that he barely remembered what he shouted back.  _

_ Finally… finally, it had been his mother who had broken them up. She’d stepped between them, put a hand on each of their chests, and told them to sit down with exceeding calmness. They’d both obeyed. As Jamie stomped back to his spot next to (a very shocked) Claire, his blood boiled so rapidly in his veins that he felt like he’d surely combust.  _

_ That was when his mother had dropped the bomb.  _

_ “Listen, Jamie, we just want what’s best for ye,” she had said, “we want ye to be wi’ someone who shares yer culture, yer values. Someone better suited. Someone like Laoghaire MacKimmie, she’s perfect for ye. Why dinna ye give her a try?”  _

_ Jamie’s affection for his mother had been the only thing keeping him from exploding at her in the same way he had his dad.  _

_ “Mam, I willna ‘give her a try’ because I’m wi’ Claire. I love Claire. Why can ye no’ accept that?”  _

_ His mother had leveled him with a look that screamed of cold calculation— a signature look of the MacKenzies.  _

_ “Listen to me, I’ll make ye a deal. If ye go on one date with Laoghaire, jes’ one, and ye still dinna change yer mind, yer father and I will give ye our blessin’ to be wi’ Claire.”  _

_ Jamie had been half inclined to flip the coffee table in front of him in outrage. His whole body trembled with indignation and he could barely hold himself in check. He had half a mind to go upstairs, grab his suitcase, and simply run for the hills if his parents were going to be that difficult.  _

_ But it had been Claire who spoke up first, her voice even and grave.  _

_ “Alright. It’s a deal. One date, and then you approve of our relationship.”  _

_ Jamie could have been knocked over with a feather.  _

_ “What are ye doin’, Claire?” he hissed under his breath.  _

_ She’d turned to him and spoke in a voice loud enough for his parents to overhear.  _

_ “I love you, Jamie, and you love me. I know very well that one date with Laoghaire won’t change that, so we might as well just do it.”  _

_ “It’s settled then. Jamie will take Laoghaire to the Grant's wedding. I’ll set it up,” his mother had said.  _

_ With that, his bold, feisty Sassenach had taken his hand, risen, and led him out his front door without another word.  _

He was brought back from his remembrance and into the present moment by Claire’s calming caresses coming to a stop. 

“Jamie, baby, you’d better start getting ready. Laoghaire—” her voice caught a little on the name, as if it was so distasteful she could barely get it out, “is expecting you to pick her up in half an hour.” 

Jamie used his hands around Claire’s waist to tug her closer and squeeze her tightly. He buried his face in her crook of her neck and mumbled, “I dinna want to.” 

She laughed, cradling his head in her hands and pressing him closer, as if he were a little boy and not a 6’4 man clinging to her. 

“It’ll be alright. Just think… by tonight, all of this will be over. Besides, I’ll be at the wedding too. I can throttle the bitch if she tries to put her hands on you.” 

Claire’s possessive side sent warmth bubbling up in Jamie’s chest. He withdrew his head to look up at her with a smirk. 

“I’d pay verra good money tae see that, Sassenach.” 

She mimed slapping him, and he pretended to receive it with an obliging jerk of his head. 

“Chances are you will. I swear, she’s been obsessed with you since we were in the grade 2. If she tries any of her usual gimmicks…” 

“What ‘gimmicks’?” Jamie straightened slightly, peering at Claire in confusion. 

She rolled her eyes at him. “God, you’ve always been oblivious to her.  _ ‘Oh, Jaaamie, help me up this hill. Jaaamie, look what I drew for ye. Jaaamie—”  _

He interrupted her impression with a chuckle and shake of his head. 

“If I’ve been oblivious, it’s only because I’ve only ever had eyes for ye, mo ghraidh.” 

The animosity on her face warped into a reluctant smile. 

“You always have a line, don’t you, James Fraser?” she asked fondly as he leaned in for a kiss. 

“Tis no’ a line if it’s true,” he countered, smile pressed against hers. Her lips were so soft. He always noticed that when he kissed her, but especially in that moment, he couldn’t imagine ever kissing another pair. She made little breathy noises when he captured her lips, murmurs of appreciation that made him feel warm all the way to his toes. She turned him into a walking, talking cliche. And he couldn't have been happier about it. 

Claire drew back reluctantly and gave him a gentle shove on the chest. 

“Go on now. We better not be late.” 

*

Jamie left Claire with dragging feet. He knew he’d see her at the wedding but he still somehow felt like he was marching to the hangman’s noose and saying his last goodbye to her. He gave her one last kiss before she shoved him out the front door. He wished he could have stayed and watched her get ready at least. 

Glancing at his watch, he stifled a groan. He’d have to change quickly if he was to get Laoghaire on time. His parents had made all the arrangements (damn them), and Laoghaire was expecting to be picked up in 20 minutes. A sigh, a prayer sent to heaven that the night would pass quickly, and he was off. 

The MacKimmie house was a large colonial style with big windows and an elaborate garden. Jamie wasn’t one for anything other than the necessities, and seeing the gleaming sports cars in the driveway made him wrinkle his nose. He wouldn’t do Laoghaire the honor of ringing the doorbell, so he simply sat in his car and shot her a text. He added a honk for good measure— sufficiently toeing the line of rude. 

Laoghaire bustled out of the house after only a moment. Her blonde hair was dolled up in some fancy updo, all curls and dangly bits drenched in hairspray. It was so plastered to itself that it didn’t even move as she walked. (Jamie couldn’t help but miss Claire’s natural curls that bounced in every direction, which she mostly preferred to wear down and untamed). Laoghaire was wearing an extremely revealing, low cut sheath dress that was an eye popping shade of blush pink. It made him want to roll his eyes, or perhaps even gouge them out. 

“Hello, Laoghaire,” he said mildly as she got into the passenger's seat. 

“Oh, Jamie. How  _ wonderful  _ to see you again. I was so pleased that you asked me on this date,” she bubbled. 

Jamie straightened and turned in his seat so that he faced her completely. He took a deep breath. 

“Listen, Laoghaire. I’m goin’ tae be honest wi’ you. I’m dating Claire Beauchamp. The only reason that I asked ye to the weddin’ was because my parents made me a deal that they’d approve of my relationship wi’ Claire if I jes’ tried one date wi’ you. They have it in their heids that you’d be more compatible. I’m sorry, I ken it’s no’ fair to ye to make ye go on a date wi’ someone who isna interested, but I hope we can still have a nice night as friends. I’d understand if ye want tae back out, but I needed tae be clear wi’ ye.” 

Laoghaire looked taken aback. Her blue eyes were wide in shock, and her lipsticked mouth hung open in the slightest. Jamie almost felt a little bad— almost. However, she quickly regained her composure. Much to his surprise, she batted her eyelashes at him in clear flirtation. 

“Well then,” she said in her best attempt at a sultry tone, “I’ll just hafta do my best tae prove yer parents right.” 

Jamie rolled his eyes and exhaled deeply as she turned forward again, and he put his hands on the wheel with a smack. 

_ This was going to be worse than he thought.  _

*

He spent the rest of the car ride trying to politely convince the lass that he wouldn’t be swayed from his devotion to Claire. Every time he brought it up, she simply dismissed him and then changed the subject back to herself. She asked him all sorts of inane questions about his life, and then prattled on about exaggerated memories from their time in primary school.  _ Revisionist history _ — he thought in annoyance—  _ she certainly remembered things that weren’t there between them _ . 

The venue for the Grant wedding was only about 20 minutes away, but it felt like an eternity to Jamie. Finally, they arrived at the wee farm and he pulled into the gravel parking lot. It was an outdoor wedding, with the reception to be inside a refurbished barn decorated to perfection. He could spot the rows of white chairs from the lot. With long and purposeful strides, he started walking in that direction. Laoghaire struggled to catch up with him in her heels, and he stifled a sigh of frustration when she managed to draw up beside him and took his arm. 

There were people milling about, mostly standing around and socializing. He spotted a few people he knew, but he was searching for one person only. 

The moment his eyes found Claire, all the breath left his lungs, and Laoghaire nearly tripped over him as he’d stopped dead in his tracks. His girlfriend was wearing a beautiful emerald dress that clung to her curves exquisitely. Simple and elegant. She absolutely took his breath away. 

Claire was standing with her Uncle Lamb, engaged in conversation. Laoghaire didn’t seem to notice his odd behavior— either that or she was ignoring it— because she began to prattle on about how beautiful the venue looked or something. But Jamie had zoned out Laoghaire’s tittering in his ear. His brain was focused on the sight of Claire and all the things he felt the urge to do. PDA be damned, he wanted to march right over, pull her body flush to his, and dip her into the best kiss of her life. He wanted to give her his coat when it got cool tonight. He wanted to sit next to her during the wedding and feel her head on his shoulder. He wanted to see her look up at him with those enchanting whisky eyes, full of lovey-dovey affection. Most of all, he wanted to kiss her at the moment the happy couple did— an unspoken promise that someday that would be them at the altar. But as much as he fantasized, he was well and truly stuck. 

Jamie’s mind wandered back to his frustration at his parents.  _ How could he be so out of control of his own life? He was becoming an adult. He was his own man, and yet his parents still had this hold over him. _ The thought of it made him grit his teeth in frustration. 

His fantasy changed from Claire-centric to something even more rebellious. He imagined shoving Laoghaire away and marching up to his parents, telling them he was living his own life and to butt out, and then storming off. 

He quickly shook himself out of that day dream, though. This was not the time for such thoughts. All he needed to do was survive one night with the most annoying lass in the world, and then he’d be free again. Even more so when he headed back to uni in a couple weeks. 

_ Grit your teeth and bare it.  _

A little more roughly than he intended, he grabbed Laoghaire’s arm and led her toward the gathering throng of people. He had to force himself to stop looking at Claire because the sight of her only made Laoghaire all the more unbearable in comparison. 

He spent the next 20 or so minutes feigning interest in what Laoghaire was saying. 

“Do ye remember that time when we went hiking together, Jamie?” 

“I remember the time you, me, Angus, and Elenna went hiking  _ the four of us,  _ aye.” 

“I didna think I could make it up that hill. But ye were sae  _ gallant  _ tae help me.” 

“I distinctly recall ye making it by yerself.” 

“And how about that time in year 2 when ye gave me that wee note for Saint Valentine’s day?” 

“I gave those tae everyone in the class, Laoghaire.” 

“Oh, and all those times ye came over tae my house when we were wee!” 

“My ma and your grandmother are good friends, aye.” 

“They always said we’d make the perfect couple. I’m sure they wanted us to get marrit ever since we were bairns.” 

“I think that Claire and I make the perfect couple,” he said pointedly. 

No matter how many times Jamie shot her down with his uninterested tone and disengaged attitude, the lass only came on stronger. He didn’t mean to be rude. It was only that he had told her the truth about Claire and yet she refused to respect that. So— he decided tersely— if she didn’t have the decency to respect him, he wouldn’t give her the time of day. Besides, he knew anything even remotely similar to politeness would be taken as flirting. Better to just shut her out. 

The beginning of the ceremony was a blessed relief. At least it would mean that Laoghaire would have to shut her gab and leave him be for a few moments of peace. Jamie wasn’t particularly close to the bride or groom, but he still could appreciate a good wedding. 

As the minister began to speak, Jamie fixed his attention straight forward, refusing to move even the slightest— even though he felt Laoghaire’s eyes resting on him nearly the entire time. 

***

To say the reception was torture would be an understatement. If the ceremony had been bad, the reception was a thousand times worse. Fate was out in full force playing its cruel tricks. Not only was Claire seated at the table right next to his and Laoghaire’s, she sat exactly facing him, in the excruciatingly perfect line of sight so she was forced to look directly at them and him at her. 

At the moment, Claire was leveling Laoghaire with a face that perfectly displayed the dictionary definition of the phrase “if looks could kill…” Those beautiful whisky eyes that Jamie loved so much were narrowed, but through those slits, he could see they were blazing. Her shoulders, and whole body for that matter, were tensed and straight as a board. Despite the obvious inner turmoil watching him with Laoghaire brought, she couldn’t seem to look away. 

Jamie couldn’t deny that seeing Claire so riled up on his behalf was just _ that bit _ satisfying. After the incident with Frank— poor Claire had been just as helpless as he was with Laoghaire, it wasn’t her fault, but still… he enjoyed seeing her overtaken by the green-eyed monster the way he had been. 

Before long, the food was being served. 

“It was sae beautiful, was it no’, Jamie?” Laoghaire was saying. 

“Aye, it was grand,” Jamie said despondently, poking at his chicken with a fork. He didn’t really have any appetite. All he wished was for the night to be over. He wished he could be back at his dorm, free to love Claire to his heart’s content without being under the stifling thumb of his parents’ disapproval. 

“Although, personally, I’d rather have a color scheme that’s a wee bit less... dull. Would ye no’ agree, Jamie?” 

Laoghaire placed her hand lightly on his forearm, and he was certain she’d be batting her eyelashes if he looked at her. 

Electing to ignore the quite obvious flirtation, Jamie shot a look at Claire instead. 

His girlfriend was boiling. She hadn’t touched her food either, unable to tear her eyes off of him, and Jamie noticed that her fists were clenched on the table. 

He made sure to shoot her a helpless look, trying to appear as miserable as he felt (although that wasn’t too hard given the circumstances). 

Her face softened a bit and she gave a reassuring nod. It was for his benefit, he knew. His sweet, selfless girlfriend was looking out for him as always, making sure he understood he had her support. 

Claire’s Uncle Lamb was leaning close to her, obviously prattling on in her ear, but Claire was fully ignoring him, engaged as she was in this silent communication with Jamie. 

Deciding a different tactic was in order, Jamie turned toward his left (the opposite side of Laoghaire) where Mrs. Fitzgibbons was seated, and began a conversation with her. This provided a blessed relief for nearly all of the rest of the meal— Mrs. Fitz was a chatterbox if ever there was one. 

The whole time he had on his polite young man façade and talked with Mrs. Fitz, Laoghaire pouted by his side. He could practically feel the displeasure emanating from her, but he pointedly ignored it. 

In an effort to force his attention back to her, Laoghaire resorted to tugging on his sleeve. 

“Jaaamie,” she whined, “I want a drink. Let’s go to the bar.” 

As much as he didn’t want to give up the safety buffer that was the conversation with Mrs. Fitz, a drink  _ would  _ make the night pass a little more quickly. Shooting a glance at the bar, his decision was made for him, because leaning against it— her hair a beautifully wild mess and curves deliciously displayed in her tight green dress— was his Sassenach. 

“I’ll go,” Jamie volunteered, a little too enthusiastically, “what would ye like?” 

“Nae, Jamie, that’s verra gallant of ye, but I’ll come too,” Laoghaire (damn her eyes) insisted. 

He got up as quickly as he could, chair scooting out from behind him abruptly, and started to make his way toward the bar. Laoghaire’s presence trailed behind him like a pesky dark cloud in cartoons— the wee gray ones that follow puir bastards everywhere, raining only on them. Jamie found himself stomping in Claire’s direction with all the force of a toddler having a tantrum. 

He wasn’t so much of a sadist (or masochist) that he would deposit himself— and inevitably Laoghaire— right beside Claire, but he still felt a little better just knowing she was near. So he stopped a little ways down the bar from her and waited for the bartender. 

The ever-present thorn in his side appeared a moment later. They ordered their drinks as Jamie sulked, shooting furtive glances toward Claire. The people that had previously separated them moved away, leaving his puir lass exposed and alone, forced to watch him and his date. 

His attention was drawn back when the drinks were deposited in front of them. Laoghaire had asked for a whisky, and with one smooth motion, she downed it. Then, she smirked up at Jamie. 

“Now,” she said, her voice lowered in what was a pitiful attempt at sounding seductive, “what would ye say to gettin’ tae talk one-on-one. We’re barely had time yet. Perhaps we could find somewhere a wee bit more... private.” 

“I think here is jes’ fine, Laoghaire,” he said a bit nervously. 

She tutted under her breath and moved closer. “Now, Jamie, ye really should do what yer date wants. It’s impolite tae refuse a lady.” 

With exceeding boldness, Laoghaire put her hand over Jamie’s where it rested on the bar. To his horror, she began to slide it up his arm in a grossly seductive manner. Just as the brazen lass leaned in close, as if to whisper something in his ear, Jamie’s eye was caught by a bit of motion from behind her. 

All the blood in his veins went ice-cold at what he saw. 

Claire, only a few meters away, had collapsed to the ground— looking like a ragdoll with her strings cut. The stool she had sat in only a moment ago was tipped over next to her. 

A horrified yelp tore from Jamie’s throat, and he shoved Laoghaire aside roughly in his haste to go to his girlfriend. 

Panic formed a lump in his throat as he ran to Claire and fell to his knees beside her, his heart racing in his chest. 

She was lying on the ground, motionless and eyes closed. He cupped her face with both hands as he ran his thumbs over her still cheeks. His brain was churning in an effort to remember first aid or at least think of what the hell he could do. 

“Oh God, Claire,” he breathed as he cradled his unconscious girlfriend’s head, at a loss for what to do. 

At least he’d  _ thought  _ she was unconscious. 

Because at that moment, she opened both eyes (clear and coherent as day) and gave him a pointed wink. 

If Jamie wasn’t already on the ground and kneeling down, his knees would have buckled in relief and sent him toppling over. 

_ Thank Christ— she was all right. And this was all a ruse! That clever wee lass had saved him.  _

Grateful for being let in on the game, Jamie could now play along without the terror of thinking her ill. 

By this point, several onlookers (including Laoghaire) were starting to crowd around. People peered down at them with curious, worried glances, and there were various murmurs of concern. 

“Give her some room,” Jamie demanded, his head swiveling around to glare at the bystanders. 

Claire let out a little moan and moved her head against Jamie’s hand, stirring as if coming-to. 

“Are ye alright, Claire?” Jamie asked in an anxious voice.  _ This little show would require all his acting chops.  _

She fluttered open her eyes and then feebly raised a hand to press against her forehead. 

“I… I just felt a little faint, and then…” she weakly trailed off. 

_ Christ, she was good.  _

“Come on, lass, let’s get ye up,” Jamie said gently. 

He slid one hand underneath her back and held her elbow with the other, then helped her up into a sitting position. She swayed a little— very convincing— and Jamie kept his hand planted firmly on the center of her back in support. 

Her hair had fallen a bit in his face in the process, and Jamie couldn’t resist tenderly brushing it back. 

“Let’s get ye some water,” he suggested. 

Turning to Laoghaire— who was particularly close by and had her eyes narrowed in distaste at the sight of him touching Claire— he asked in a tone that left no room for argument, “will ye fetch some water for the lass?” 

With all the onlookers, she had no choice but to comply. While Laoghaire scurried off to fetch Claire some water, Jamie couldn’t help a slight smile as satisfaction rushed through him. He looked back at Claire to see her struggling to keep a smile of her own off her face. 

But the show had to be maintained. Claire was still blinking slowly, looking dazed. She leaned heavily against Jamie— offering him the perfect excuse to hold her. It sent a slight thrill through him to do so in front of all the onlookers. A bit of possessiveness flared within him.  _ That’s right, she’s mine. See?  _

But their little moment was interrupted as the bartender leaned over and offered some water, holding it out to Jamie. 

_ Perfect. Maybe they could just make a hasty exit before Laoghaire got back with hers.  _

Jamie took it with gratitude and gave it to Claire. Her hand was shaking— very believable— so he indulgently placed his own over hers and helped her tilt the water to her lips. 

Once she was finished, Jamie said— loud enough so the crowd could hear— “what ye need is some fresh air.” 

Claire nodded very decisively in agreement. So, without further delay lest Laoghaire come back and decide to join them, Jamie helped Claire up to her feet. His sly lass swayed and leaned heavily against Jamie, all but melting into his side, and he delighted in wrapping his arm around her waist. 

“There ye are, lass,” he said encouragingly as they began to take a few steps in the direction of the door. 

She hung on tightly to his arm that supported her, looking so convincingly faint that Jamie nearly began worrying again. But just as soon as they made it outside into the fresh air, she tore away from him and— in one smooth motion— pushed him against the exterior wall. 

Lips were on his in a second, claiming with passionate fervor and reckless abandon. 

Jamie found he quite liked this jealous Claire— her lips were demanding and her hands were wrapped in his shirt, pulling him close— and he kissed back with just as much enthusiasm. He started to reach around her waist, making to embrace her, but suddenly hands were tangling themselves in his hair and tugging viciously. 

He let out a gasp against her lips, and the wicked besom just smiled into the kiss and pulled harder. 

“God—” Claire muttered breathlessly between kisses, “now I know— how you felt— when you saw me with Frank—” 

“Jealous are ye?” Jamie shot back, desiring to egg her on. 

It worked like a charm, and Claire shoved him back against the wall again and crushed her mouth to his. 

“You’re mine,” she said against his lips. 

“And ye’re mine,” he responded instantly, tilting his chin forward to press their lips urgently together. 

As much as he enjoyed Claire’s dominant side, he was aching to take control. With a quick grab for her waist, Jamie spun them around and pressed Claire against the wall instead, one hand planted over her middle and playfully pinning her. He ended this maneuver with a teasing grin. 

Claire let out a hiss of displeasure, leaning toward him for another kiss, but he flirtatiously moved backward out of her reach. 

“I didna ken ye were such a good actor,” he teased as she pouted. 

“Pretty good, aren’t I?” 

“Aye. Ye had me worrit there for a minute. Liked the attention, did ye?” 

“Just saving you,” she shot back matter-of-factly.

Jamie leaned in, hovering his lips just over top of hers. “Thank ye for rescuing me, lass,” he said huskily. 

And then he dove in for another kiss. He kept Claire pinned to the wall, intent on showing her she was his. But as her arms twined around his neck and she pulled him in closer, he let her, easing his grip. Of course he didn’t mind in the slightest. 

Finally, they parted for air, chests heaving in matching gasps for breath. 

Claire’s eyes softened and her expression fell to regret. 

“Jamie, we’d better get back inside. People will notice we’re gone, especially a certain date of yours.” This last part was said with raised eyebrows. 

“I dinna want to,” he groaned as he buried his face into her neck. A sentiment he seemed to be experiencing a lot. 

She carded her fingers through his hair soothingly. “I know you don’t, baby. But it’ll be over soon. And besides…” she grabbed his head in her wee hands to pull him back from her and force him to look at her, “if she gets too handsy again, I can always fake another collapse.” 

“Another stunt like that and Uncle Lamb will send ye to the hospital,” Jamie chuckled, “so maybe keep the acting to a minimum.” 

“Fine,” she grumbled, “but I quite liked you having an excuse to put your hands on me.” 

Reminded of the ticking clock he had for touching her freely, Jamie brought his hands to her waist and self-indulgently smoothed them down her hips. 

“Soon, mo nighean donn,” he said sadly, “soon I willna need an excuse to be wi’ my own girlfriend.” 

She pecked his lips reassuringly and gave him a regretful but understanding look. 

“I can’t wait,” was her reply. 

So, with feet dragging, Jamie and Claire headed back inside. 

***   
“There you are,” came the shrill voice of Laoghaire as he drifted back toward their table. 

“I jes’ took Claire out for some fresh air. As ye saw, she wasna feelin’ well.” 

The eye roll he got in response was astounding. Jamie wasn’t sure how anyone found this besom attractive. Certainly he didn’t. 

“Ye’re wi’ me tonight,” Laoghaire said firmly, “so ye owe me yer full attention. Let’s dance.” 

The dancing was, in fact, in full swing by this point. Before Jamie could come up with an excuse, there was a surprisingly strong hand around his wrist and he was being dragged onto the floor. 

“Laoghaire, I dinna—” 

She halted in her tracks and shot him a sharp look that very clearly said  _ “one more protest and I’ll have yer guts for garters.”  _

Electing to keep his insides where they belonged (and slightly worried that his mother would provide the same treatment if she found out he’d been ignoring his date), Jamie closed his mouth and allowed Laoghaire to tug him out onto the dance floor. 

It was worse than he’d imagined. Jamie had found himself thinking that a lot during this terrible ordeal— but this time it was particularly true. They arrived on the dance floor just in time for the song to switch to a slow dance, with it’s dulcet tones shifting the atmosphere into one of intimacy. With a sinking feeling in his chest, he took Laoghaire’s hand and hovered his other over her back. The distance between them was a safety buffer that Jamie was desperate to hold on to. Any time she drew forward, closer to his front, he backed off, as if repelled by an opposing magnetic force. 

_ Jamie chuckled to himself at that, thinking about how he and Claire were two magnets drawn together, whereas Laoghaire clearly had the wrong pole facing him.  _

It took only seconds before he found himself having to perform the stereotypical maneuver to avoid wandering hands. Laoghaire wrapped both her arms around him (an unfortunate development he couldn't seem to avoid— short of bodily shoving the lass away), and her hands began to slide downward. He let out a quiet yelp of indignation and grabbed Laoghaire’s wrists behind him to jerk them up to a safer spot. 

“Lass—” he growled in a warning tone. 

“Lighten up, Jamie. Have a bit of fun,” Laoghaire shot back. 

“I canna have fun when I’m in a verra happy relationship but another lassie’s hands are all over me,” he said firmly. 

Laoghaire let out a sigh that clearly meant she disagreed. But she didn’t protest further, just drifted back toward him, replacing her hands on his back. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of Jamie’s stomach, and he didn’t like it one bit. The helplessness in the whole situation with his parents was certainly demeaning and less than pleasant, but he’d be damned if Laoghaire made him feel faithless to Claire. 

Sure enough, the wicked besom wouldn’t take no for an answer. A few bars later, her hands made a smooth motion down his back to give a definite two-handed squeeze to his behind. 

This time, Jamie jerked away, his movement so sudden and forceful that he nearly tripped backward off the dancefloor and onto a nearby table. The taste of anger rose in his mouth— sharp and hot— but he stamped it back down. The lass kent verra well what she was doing, but he had to keep his cool. 

“Ye’re over the line, Laoghaire,” he growled in a low voice. They were on the furthest edge of the dancefloor, not particularly close to anyone, but he still didn’t want any gossip-thirsty ears picking up on this tiff. “Listen. I ken this isna an ideal situation for ye, but I was clear from the start what this was. Bein’ my date entitles ye to be wi’ me tonight, but it certainly doesna entitle ye to  _ that. _ We’re finished dancin’.” He ended the last sentence with a sharp tone, indicating there wasn’t even an inch of room for argument. 

Despite his very marked attitude, Laoghaire seemed to be just getting started. Her eyes glimmered with a dark… smug sort of look. She took one long step closer to him, her pink dress swishing around her, and drew close— close enough to make him flinch and so he could smell the scent of whisky on her breath. 

“Ye said yer parents made ye a deal,” she said in a low tone, “well, if ye dinna show me a good time tonight, who is to say I wilna march right up tae them and tell them that ye arena showin’ me the time of day?” 

Jamie’s mouth fell open. That was a threat, plain and simple. This morning, he’d mostly thought Laoghaire an immature, pining lass with a hint of conniving. But this was downright manipulative. 

Before he had a chance to open his mouth to answer her— though he hadn’t quite decided what the devil was going to say— a curly head and familiar body pushed its way between him and Laoghaire, making both of them take a step back. 

Claire situated herself firmly in front of Jamie, her back against his front, providing a human shield against the brazen lass. 

“Laoghaire,” Claire started, very slow and even— as if she was ordering coffee rather than confronting her rival— but still there was a tone of simmering fury long contained that revealed her truth emotion, “I am not going to cause a scene at the Grants’ wedding, so listen closely, I’ll only say this once. Jamie has made his intentions clear, and you aren’t respecting his boundaries.  _ Keep your hands off of him.”  _

To his shame, Claire's possessive tone at the end sent a tingle of satisfaction down Jamie’s spine, despite the unfortunate drama unfolding in front of his eyes and his girlfriend’s obvious discomfort. He placed a hand on Claire’s upper arm, squeezing in silent reassurance. 

But the moment his attention shifted from his girlfriend and over to Laoghaire, he saw the blonde’s eyes were blazing and jaw clenched tight as she shot daggers at Claire.

“Ye think he’s yers, don’t ye? Laoghaire spat, “well I’m tired of ye puttin’ yerself between us, seducing Jamie out from under me. This is  _ my  _ night, and he is  _ mine.  _ Has been since we were bairns.”

“Sassenach…” he murmured into Claire’s ear in a warning tone, feeling her stiffen in outrage. 

But he had nothing to worry about; she maintained her decorum perfectly. “He was never yours to begin with, and now he’s chosen to be with me. You need to respect that and stop these childish games,” she said firmly. 

Claire started to take a step from Jamie, making to walk away, but Laoghaire suddenly burst into motion. 

Jamie heard the slap— the jolting smack of skin hitting skin that made his gut clench on instinct— before his brain had processed what the devil had just happened. 

Claire’s head jerked to the side sharply and her hand flew up to clutch her face, while Laoghaire stood in front of her, hand still open and hovering in the air. 

His vision flooded with red. Searing hot rage muted everything around him save his hyper-focus on the two lasses in front of him: one the object of his abhorrence and the other still reeling in shock. 

Jamie was ready to spring to Claire’s defense, and he would have too (he imagined himself vaulting past her to throttle Laoghaire with his bare hands), but he never got the chance. 

His girlfriend just straightened up, slow and dignified, and set her shoulders with her chin high. She turned calmly to Jamie, took his hand and laced their fingers together, and then looked to Laoghaire again. 

“You’re not even worth it,” she said with a shake of her head, “I told myself before this fiasco that I wouldn’t debase myself by stooping to your level. Jamie isn’t a prize to be fought over, and as I told you before, he’s chosen to be with me. But here’s the truth of it—“ Claire demeanor grew dark, like a cloud had descended over her, “Jamie is mine. He’ll  _ never  _ be yours. Get over yourself and move on. We’re done here.” 

The words were spoken calmly, but there was no denying that Claire was absolutely boiling behind that collected façade. She was squeezing Jamie’s hand so viciously that he almost wondered if  _ he  _ was the one in trouble. 

With an air of finality, Claire started to tug Jamie away from Laoghaire, who had remained surprisingly frozen in her spot. He simply followed Claire, agreeing that he couldn’t stand to be in Laoghaire’s presence for another second— deal or no. 

They had only made it about two meters from Laoghaire when there was a sudden screech. 

“Dinna walk away from me!” 

Jamie whirled around to see Laoghaire rocketing toward them, ablaze with a manic frenzy that made his blood run cold. 

He had just barely enough time to snag Claire by the waist and pull her safely out of the way of Laoghaire’s tackle. 

Laoghaire— having expected to hit Claire’s body but met instead with empty air— went tumbling forward, her momentum propelling her onward....

And right into the table holding the wedding cake— as if it had been a conveniently placed landing pad. 

She smashed bodily into the three tiered cake, sending the highest bit toppling off and her body unceremoniously crushing the rest, which sent a bit of frosting shooting out on all sides. Then, she went still. 

There were audible gasps echoing around the now motionless room, and Jamie became suddenly aware that they had an audience. 

He couldn’t bring himself to move, shocked and appalled as he was by the surrealness of the last couple minutes, so he just stayed rooted to the spot with Claire tucked under his arm and his hands around her waist. Claire, for her part, was staring open-mouthed at the scene in front of her. 

As they watched, Laoghaire shot up suddenly from her defeated spot on top of the cake, wiping clumps of frosting off her face with horrified flicks before turning toward Jamie and Claire. 

He wasn’t sure if she was going to lunge at Claire again or cry. There was a tense moment of stillness, the air silent and heavy, before she suddenly turned on her heel and bolted out of the room. Her retreating footsteps echoed, but even louder was the slamming sound of the door behind her. 

The stunned silence of the entire room and all its guests hung stifling for a long moment before it was suddenly broken by the all-too-familiar sound of Mackenzie wrath. 

“James Fraser,” Ellen’s voice was low, but still very decidedly a shout that filled the space. 

Jamie turned to look behind him, and saw his mother stalking toward them, face red with fury, and his father trailing a couple steps behind, “outside. Now.” 

Claire made no move to let go of his hand, and he was glad. Whatever hell-fire was about to rain down on them from his embarrassed and infuriated mother, he wanted to face it with Claire at his side. Keeping their hands tightly clasped together, Jamie headed toward the door at a quick pace. His cheeks were blazing with all the eyes on them, and he very much wanted to be safely outside before his mother had the chance to drag him out by the ear in front of the spectators. 

When he and Claire made it to the safety of the porch, she stopped and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“We didn’t do anything wrong,” Claire stated quietly, “but I’m done playing games and making deals.” 

“Me too,” he said, “I’m verra sorry ye had tae go through that, Sassenach. From now on, we’re facing things together.” 

With that, they turned— quite literally— to face the door, just as Ellen, Brian, and Uncle Lamb came bursting out. 

*

“Claire!” Lamb was sputtering, his face aflame in mortification and spectacles fogged, “what on earth is going on?” 

His words overlapped with Ellen’s harsh, “what the hell did ye think ye were doin’, Jamie?” 

Brian was the one adult who seemed to maintain some sort of composure. He stood a few feet behind, arms crossed and face stern, but at least he wasn’t yelling at them. 

“Mam, if ye’ll jes’ hear me out—” Jamie started. 

But Ellen was throwing her hands up in exasperation, not inclined to listen until she’d said her piece, “ye made a whole stramash that interrupted a verra fine wedding, and ye ruined their cake! A lifetime of memories, no’ tae mention expensive—” 

“It wasna my fault,” Jamie protested, “it wasna like I pushed Laoghaire intae the cake. She was goin’ tae hit Claire, and I jes’ pulled her out of the way.” 

“It’s true,” Claire piped up beside him as she shifted closer to his side in support, “Laoghaire did it to herself. We were just trying to walk away.” 

“And why were ye with the Sassenach in the first place?” Ellen demanded derisively, completely ignoring Claire’s comment and even her presence. 

“Dinna speak about Claire that way, even in yer anger,” Jamie said. 

Realizing he was right, Ellen melted a little, having the decency to look ashamed. With that, Jamie continued, “And if ye’d jes’ let us tell the story, ye’d ken.” 

Ellen clenched her jaw in obvious disapproval but reluctant acceptance that her son was going to speak, then nodded. 

Jamie looked down at Claire, wondering if she wanted to start the story, but she just gave him an encouraging nod. 

He took a deep breath before beginning. 

“I told Laoghaire the truth, mam. It wouldna have been fair tae lead the lass on. But she was all over me all night, disrespecting my wishes. I tried to hold to our deal. I stayed away from Claire and tried tae be a good date to Laoghaire, but she was pushing my boundaries, and I couldna stand it. Claire stepped in at one such time, saying that she didna care about the deal and the Laoghaire needed tae back off. That’s when the lass went wild. Truly,” he shot an earnest look at his parents, “the lass slapped Claire. Then tried tae tackle her to the ground. And that’s when the cake incident happened…” 

The adults remained silent for a long time after Jamie finished. The air was stifling, making it hard for Jamie to draw breath, but he still remained holding Claire to his side and his head held high. 

“I know we agreed to this, Mrs. Fraser,” Claire said, “but it honestly wasn’t worth putting Jamie in a position that made him uncomfortable. It wasn’t fair to him. I know how much he values your approval, and so I do too. I’m sorry you don’t support our relationship, but the truth is, I love your son. And I love him too much to see him harassed by that…” Claire shut her mouth abruptly before a rather inappropriate word could come out. 

Jamie, encouraged by her honesty and feeling liberated by finally getting his bottled up feelings out in the open, spoke up. “Claire’s right. I love ye both, and ye ken I value yer opinion. But I’m a man now. And who I love is my decision, no’ yers. And I love Claire and I’ve chosen tae be wi’ her. I hope someday ye will come tae accept it, but I’m done tryin’ tae win yer approval and lettin’ others decide how I live my life. I must do what I ken is right for me.” 

All three adults were staring at them, and he could see the gears turning in their brains. This was the moment… Jamie was either getting disowned or they would finally accept their relationship. Either way, he was relieved to have said his piece and put an end to the foolishness. 

He let go of Claire’s hands in order to rub soothing circles on her back. Glancing down at her, he saw that she was wearing a determined smile, tinged with the same relief that he was feeling. 

Finally, the silence was broken by Lamb. 

“Claire, darling,” he said slowly, “as I told you when you brought this whole mess to me, I’m not going to try to control who you see and don’t see. I trust your judgement,” (although he was currently shooting a sharp, disapproving look toward Brian Fraser). “I am going to leave, as I do not believe we will be welcome at the reception any longer. I trust Jamie will see you home,” he finished with a nod. 

“Thank you, Uncle Lamb,” Claire said. 

Her Uncle passed by her, placing a kiss to the top of her curls, and then headed out toward the parking lot— leaving only the Frasers. 

Jamie looked back toward his mother to find her hands on her hips and her posture rigid. Her expression was unreadable though, and he found himself growing nervous that her reaction wouldn’t be quite as positive as Uncle Lamb’s had been. 

She took a deep breath, shot a look toward the heavens as if praying for strength, and then looked back to Jamie and Claire. 

“I can see ye have strong feelin’s toward each other,” she began, “and I recognize ye’re no’ a boy anymore, Jamie. I am a big enough woman to admit when I’m wrong, so I can tell ye— I was wrong. It wasna fair tae insist Jamie give Laoghaire a try.” She took another long breath, steeling herself, then said, “I’m sorry, Jamie. I wilna stand in yer way any longer. Ye ken I love ye verra much, a bhalaich?” 

Jamie’s throat was suddenly clogged with emotion, and he had to blink away the tears that pricked at the corners of his eyes. 

“I ken,” he said simply, “I love ye too, mam.” 

He let go of Claire and stepped toward his mother. She already had her arms open for him, and he leaned into them, relief flooding his veins like the best drug. As she hugged him tightly, it was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He felt very much like a little boy again, even though he had just finished proclaiming himself a man. Either way, he was glad the immediate conflict seemed to be over. 

When he pulled back from his mother, he shot a look a Brian. His father was smiling— thank God— and gave him a nod. Coming forward, Jamie received a hearty pat on the shoulder. 

“Ye are a man, Jamie,” Brian said, giving him a squeeze, “and ye’ve shown that jes’ now.” 

That was all he needed to say. Jamie’s lips downturned just slightly in emotion, and he gave a wavering smile to his Da, then a nod. 

“Thank ye,” he said simply. 

Claire came up behind Jamie at that moment, placing her wee hand on his back in an anchoring sort of way. 

“I suppose we’d better follow Lamb’s lead,” Ellen said, looking back and forth between Brian and Jamie, “we’ll see ye at home, lad.” 

And in the next moment, Ellen and Brian were walking off, leaving Claire and Jamie alone together… finally. 

They were both still reeling from the entire conversation. As the tension slowly dissipated from the air, the absurdity of the day descended on Jamie. 

Rather out of his control, laugher began to bubble out of his chest. It started as just a chuckle— a release of pent up emotions— and then quickly turned into a whole body laugh that made him shake and gasp for breath. 

Claire looked at him as if he was off her rocker. 

“What in God’s name are you laughing about right now?” Claire asked, looking helplessly confused. 

“Laoghaire—” Jamie chuckled, “she really dove straight into that cake. And— and—” he was laughing so hard now he could barely breathe, “ye fake-fainted in front of everyone. This whole night—” he waved a hand around, “was jes’  _ ridiculous.”  _

Claire was giggling now too, her barely contained smile breaking out as the insanity of the situation washed over her as well. Just as he had, she began to let go, and her laughter came freely. 

“You—” she choked out, “you really spent the whole night trying to keep her hands off your butt.” 

“Like an incorrigible old lady, that one,” Jamie guffawed, smacking his leg, “and  _ you! _ Ye were staring daggers at her all night. I half thought ye were goin’ tae stomp over and rip her earrings from her ears or somethin’.” 

The laughter was dying down now, but hilarity still danced between them, and Jamie had to wipe the moisture from his eyes from all the mirth. 

“I had half a mind to,” Claire admitted, “the audacity of that—” 

“I didna mean tae rile ye up again,” Jamie quickly put a halt to the oncoming tirade, “it’s only that I think ye’re awfully cute when ye’re jealous.” 

“Is that so?” Claire demanded playfully. 

In a movement very reminiscent of earlier that day, Claire shoved him back against the wall and attacked him with her lips. Last time, though, there had been urgency. Now there was only possessiveness, her kisses almost lazy with it— as if she was claiming him in front of the world now that they were free to do so. 

He ran his hands up her back while returning her kiss fervently. They wandered all the way to her neck, where he cupped it and guided her ever-closer. 

Kissing Claire was intoxicating. He was dizzy with it— the softness of her lips, the passion of her touch, and the feel of her body against his. It all made the world spin a little and narrow down until all that he could sense was her. 

Pulling back slightly for air, Claire panted, “I can’t—” he gave her a kiss, “tell you how—” another kiss, “glad I am to be—” a particularly long one that had her humming against his lips, “done with this nonsense.” 

“Me too,” Jamie forced out before grabbing her face with both hands and pulling her close again. 

She tasted sweet, familiar, and better than anything Jamie had ever tasted. If he had his way, he’d stand outside kissing her until the reception ended and the guests came to interrupt them. But it seemed Claire valued air, and her lips broke apart from his with a soft snick. 

“So,” she said, looking breathless and flushed in a way that made Jamie swell with pride, “what do we do now?” 

“I suppose we should go,” Jamie said with a shrug, “but I dinna ken where. I’m no’ particularly in the mood tae go home jus’ yet. Perhaps we could grab a snack?” 

Claire was trying to take a step back from him, but he wound his arms around her waist and held her fast. She looked up at him, and he gave her a half-smirk.

“Hmmm,” she hummed meditatively, unable to keep the smile from her face, “for some reason I’m in the mood for cake.” 

The glimmer of mischief in her eyes made Jamie want to burst out laughing again. 

“Hold on, maybe Laoghaire’s still around,” he shot back with a joking puff of air from his nose and a smile. 

Claire’s brows furrowed and her lips pursed in mock disapproval, “that’s in poor taste.” 

“But Laoghaire would be in good taste!” Jamie grinned and waggled his brows, waiting for Claire to laugh at his joke, “get it? Because she’s covered in cake?” 

She obliged him, snorting out her laughter and giving him a light smack on the chest. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re already over it enough to joke.” 

“Och, I’d joke on my death bed, ye ken,” he replied with a shrug. 

“Aye, I do, laddie,” Claire said impishly, in the worst imitation of a Scots accent Jamie had ever heard. 

He cringed and gave an exaggerated shudder. “Jes’ for that, maybe I’ll no’ take ye out.” 

Claire’s eyes went round and she stepped back so she could take his hand and tug at it. 

“No, no, I take it back. Ice cream?” 

Jamie nodded, knowing already that ice cream would be his Sassenach’s request. He held onto her and began walking toward the parking lot. It felt incredibly good to be hand-in-hand, on display for the world to see (even though there was no one around to see them at the moment). Still, it sent a thrill racing down Jamie’s spine. 

“Hey, maybe next time this’ll be us, eh?” he said, gesturing with his free hand toward the chairs still set up from the ceremony. 

Claire raised her brows and looked up at him with a slight air of dubiousness. 

“In a few years,” Jamie grinned, raising his hand. 

He didn’t receive an answer, but Claire stopped suddenly and pulled him toward her with a sharp tug on his collar, and then she was kissing him again. 

As he embraced his girlfriend there in the parking lot, her lips making promises that she still lacked the courage to say out loud, there wasn’t an ounce of uncertainty within him. 

Jamie had known since he was a young lad and he knew even more now… he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Claire Beauchamp— or hopefully soon— Fraser. 

***

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading, I hope it was enjoyable and worth the post! Also if you're ever on tumblr, feel free to hit me up also @jamiemackenziefraser. Stay well and much love <3<3


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